


Unlikely Places (And Objects)

by JustSimpleThings



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Deepthroating, Doctor/Patient, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Medical Examination, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Object Insertion, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2344889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSimpleThings/pseuds/JustSimpleThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets a beer bottle stuck in his arse and has to go to the A&E to have it extracted. It would be funny if it wasn't mortifying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlikely Places (And Objects)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Milarca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milarca/gifts).



> A million-zillion thanks go out to Hetty1204, Olivia, Milarca and Amanda Pancake (eclipsed flower), who made this story infinitely better. For all your kinds words and funny remarks - I am forever indebted to you.

John was in trouble. Big time.

As a doctor, he knew how grim his prospects were and so he was praying that the doctor they sent him next would be more competent than the intern he had just chased away. He hadn't meant to make her cry, his words had just come out harsher than he'd intended.

John was in too much of an embarrassing predicament to give a damn about sentiment. He was, currently, lying on an exam table practically naked. The only clothing he had on being the flimsy hospital gown they'd given him, which didn't fully cover his body. Then again that was kind of the point, seeing as how he'd managed to get a beer bottle stuck up his arse.

John still couldn't believe how he could have been so careless. He had been masturbating fine for hours when he'd decided to try stuffing a bottle of Heineken in, because what the hell. John was nothing if not adventurous and he had taken bigger things before. Immense pleasure flooded him when the slick, cool object grazed against his prostate. He'd felt a quiet kind of thrill when his hand grazed against his entrance; the heady knowledge that he had taken the entire 0.33 litre bottle.

Then the doorbell rang and John swore. He could have dragged the bottle out but it was slippery, would have taken too much time. First he had to wash his hands so instead of taking it out then he decided to postpone it until the inconvenient visitor had left. Thankfully, it was just the mailman with a package for him. After he'd signed for it the mailman wished him a good day and was on his way. The affair took place in less than a minute.

John sighed happily as he settled back onto the couch. It was still kind of sweaty and sticky from lube but he couldn't be arsed to get a towel. Stroking along his thigh, he reached to bury his fingers in himself. When he stuck his fingers in, he could feel the bottle in place but, instead of coming out, it was being pushed deeper and deeper by his probing fingers until he realised that he was stuck. Or better said, the beer bottle was stuck. In his arse.

He squirted copious amounts of lubricant inside himself to try and expel it. He tried gripping it with his fingers but it was now so deep that his short fingers could barely graze it. When nothing worked, he gave up and decided a trip to the hospital may be necessary.

So now he was here, at the A&E feeling like the idiot he was. The corners of his mouth tilted up in dark humour as he remembered what he thought as a medical student when they were studying about rectal foreign object removal – those people who get something stuck inside them are _fucking stupid_. That would never happen to him. Been there, done that many times; he had never had so much as a minor fissure before.

 

Fat load of good his smugness did him now.

Finally, when John was about to get up to fetch a doctor for himself, the door slammed open and a tall, dark haired man came rushed in. Judging by the scrubs he had on John could safely assume that he was a doctor. 

‘Rectal foreign body, tedious! Just wait until I see Lestrade. I am going to murder him! Sending me in to replace Molly…’ The doctor continued to mutter to himself as he walked back and forth inside the room.

John didn't dare speak because the man seemed like he was a fucking loony. He felt even more nervous when the crazed man's eyes zeroed in on him.

‘You had better have something interesting stuck in you, not something dull like a dildo or an aubergine.’

John cringed but he couldn't help laughing a bit.

‘Beer bottle.’ He shrugged nonchalantly.

‘You mean a 0.33 litre beer bottle?’ The tall doctor's eyebrows lifted slightly as John nodded.

‘Yeah, a Heineken. Empty, of course.’

The doctor waved dismissingly.

‘Irrelevant. Wide side first or not?’

Now it was John's turn to look bewildered.

‘Of course I put the neck in first. Who likes to start with the bigger stretch?’

The doctor's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

‘Oh, brilliant! Much harder to get it out that way. Don't worry, you’re in very competent hands.’

John didn't fully believe the man standing in front of him was completely sane but at least he was quicker than the intern. The doctor held out his hand for a handshake and John took it, albeit reluctantly. 

‘The name is Sherlock Holmes, MD but please, just call me Sherlock. And you are…,’ He snatched up the patients chart, ‘John.’

John was starting to lose his patience.

‘Actually, I prefer…’ The man trailed off as he realised the doctor – Sherlock was ignoring him completely. He watched as he pulled out a pair of clean white rubber gloves from his chest pocket and snapped them on efficiently.

‘We’re going to have so much fun! Now what should we do first?’ 

Sherlock looked John up and down, as if he was sizing up his prey and John could suddenly empathise with those poor patients who complained about being treated like a 'pound of flesh'. 

Sherlock nodded and John swore he almost snapped his neck with the force he did it with.

‘Okay, let's get you settled in. Please get into the lithotomy position while I get these stirrups up,’ John looked at the doctor, disbelieving. The look Sherlock shot him spoke of honest confusion, ‘What? You're a doctor; surely you know what that means.’

‘How did you…?’

‘The way you looked: assessing, calculating, a bit disdainful and confident, despite your… less than fortunate position, made it all clear. Plus, your name has “Dr” before it.’ 

The chart clattered on the table as Sherlock dropped it. John sighed. Right.

He lay down on his back and let Sherlock manipulate his legs into the stirrups. He slid lower until he could feel his bottom hanging off the edge of the table - proper lithotomy position. The sheet failed to cover his nether regions but it gave an illusion of modesty from the upside so he was grateful for that. Sherlock pulled a chair over and settled himself between John's legs.

‘Surely you know what I am about to do but I have a feeling it's better if I keep you informed, just in case. I'm going to perform a digital rectal exam now, to see if the object is palpable. If it is I can try to retrieve it that way; if it isn't I will have to try something else.’ 

The way Sherlock said that, with absolutely no regret in his voice made John cringe and grab the edge of the table.

He heard the snap of rubber gloves and soon felt the cold slickness of the lube being applied to his sensitive anus. John tried not to squirm and cursed as he felt his cock give a weak twitch.

‘Relax,’ Sherlock said in a disapproving tone. John felt an urge to talk back but he held his tongue. After all he was not in the position to be rude.

John felt a slight pressure when Sherlock's much longer fingers slid into him and then stopped abruptly.

‘Object is palpable but is wedged in far too deep for manual extraction. Any attempt to remove it at this point may cause further slipping due to the vacuum effect. Using a forceps would prove ineffective due to the slippery glass surface and the chance of causing an unwanted internal injury is too high.’ Sherlock stopped in his monologue and thankfully, mercifully, extracted his fingers. John shivered, but tried to clear his head.

‘So what now? You could kick me out with a spinal anaesthesia, see if that helps.’ John supplied. Sherlock's face became dangerously calculating at the suggestion.

‘No, I think that might not be necessary. The problem with anaesthesia is that as the patient can't feel pain, an accidental injury becomes much more likely. So, it is in your best interest that we keep you alert and feeling.’

John felt wearier and wearier by the minute.

‘All right, but then…the anaesthesia would help me relax. How am I supposed to relax without it?’

Sherlock grinned.

‘The way you got into trouble in the first place.’

‘Absolutely not!’ John could barely find the words to express the shock and indignation he felt, ‘Sherlock, I am not drinking alcohol! What if I actually need surgery? The alcohol would…’

Sherlock looked at him with such a haughty expression that he shut up.

‘John, let me tell you something about myself. I don't make mistakes. I just don't.’ Sherlock was so calm and confident about himself, that it was actually hard not to believe him. And right now John desperately wanted to. He really didn't want his belly to be cut open, but it had been three hours already since the bottle had become stuck. Time was running out.

‘Now,’ Sherlock continued, ‘We can do this without any relaxant or, you can drink some Scotch, pop a Xanax or both. It's your choice. It doesn't make much of a difference to me but it might put you more at ease. The less tense you are, the more efficient this is going to be.’

John sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He shifted and winced when he felt the bottle shift inside him. God, he wanted that anaesthesia. But he would take what he could.

‘Give me that Scotch.’

The Scotch was actually just mediocre stuff, nothing special. But it was definitely better than surgery and John certainly felt relaxed. 

‘This was a brilliant idea!’ John said for what must have been the fifth time. 

Sherlock's smile only grew fonder. John sighed from time to time whenever he felt Sherlock's brilliant, amazing, perfect fingers graze against his prostate. He tried to hide his arousal at the beginning but now he found he didn't care. 

Sherlock must have been aware of it for some time, anyway.

‘How much longer?’ John murmured dazedly. Even though he knew that the room was chilly when he entered, he was burning up.

Sherlock wiped the sweat from his forehead on his gown.

‘As I said, at the moment I am stuffing Foley-catheters around the bottle and I'm pumping them up so they become little balloons. The ends of the catheters are here in my hand. When I deem that I have put a sufficient amount in I am going to take this neonatal suction bulb, which I have cut in half, attach some suction tubing to it and place it on the end of the bottle as firmly as I can so it grabs onto it. Then I am going to pull on the catheters and the bulb at the same time. It should work. I just hope that I have managed to push the Foley catheters deep enough or they might not be strong enough to drag the bottle out.’

John was nodding absently.

‘It'll work. You said you never make mistakes, right?’ He slurred on his words and Sherlock smirked.

‘No, I don't. I promise I will get this thing out of you.’

Despite how cool Sherlock was acting, he had his doubts. This method of extraction usually worked better with lighter objects. The beer bottle's sheer weight might put too much of a strain on the catheters and the air he had pumped in might escape. This would render the whole manipulation useless because the catheters would not be able to drag the bottle out.

Sherlock checked that he had sealed the catheters and that they were in fact, airtight. He used two fingers to wiggle the catheters in next to, and past the bottle, making sure that he did not push the bottle deeper in the process. It was a delicate procedure but he was about ready to begin. Five catheters were in and pumped as full as he had dared to.

‘John.’ He said urgently.

The man turned to look at him with a shit-eating grin on his face. Sherlock felt his own mouth twitch into a small smile. 

‘I am about to try and extract this thing. Are you ready?’

John smiled and nodded.

‘Yes, go on and fuck me with it. It felt good going in, sure it should feel good comin' out as well.’

Sherlock laughed slightly, but did not correct him. John seemed relaxed. His breathing was nice, even and deep and he had copious amounts of lube flowing down his muscular butt cheeks. This was because Sherlock had re-applied it generously throughout the catheter-insertion process. And Sherlock did not just check out his patient’s bum.

He shook his head and took the neonatal suction cup. He gently eased it into John and attached it to the base of the beer bottle. All the catheters were firmly in his right hand so Sherlock started to pull.

At first John didn't feel anything, but then he felt an incredible sense of fullness as the bottle started to slide out, nearing his sensitive outer rim. He bucked a bit.

‘Oh, fuck’ John moaned. He ached to touch his cock but held onto his last shards of sanity and resisted the temptation, squirming instead.

Sherlock swore as the movement almost dislodged one of the catheters. 

‘John please, don’t move. Try to keep still, okay? I do not want to repeat this.’

John registered the words but following them seemed impossible. He felt way too hot. It must have been the alcohol, but he was sweating profusely and his cock was aching, drooling precum all over his belly. It felt as is the whole world was on fire, his skin was crawling, the whole world was super-saturated, with unnaturally bright colours. He could feel Sherlock’s left hand on his thigh, intended to be reassuring but incredibly erotic instead, it was as if that was causing his muscles to tighten further, but instead of pain, John felt a strange ‘almost-too-good’ kind of ecstasy, as if he was stuck on the verge of a very powerful orgasm.

Sherlock did not stop his ministrations regardless of John’s pleading and moaning.

‘I can't… Sherlock… it's too good!’ John emitted a sharp grunt as the bottle finally popped past his sphincter.

‘Yes!’ Sherlock shouted triumphantly and pulled the bottle out in one smooth slide.

John felt like he came from that alone. He kept mewling and thrashing uncontrollably. He was wet, stretched impossibly wide and empty. Sherlock pulled the last of the catheters out and showed him the bottle triumphantly.

‘Fuck. That was…,’ John sighed at the throb he felt in his cock, ‘Would you give me some privacy?’ John asked in a not too subtle voice. He was aching to get a hold of his cock, finally. The orgasm seemed so close, his body was strung tight but was delightfully relaxed at the same time – he desperately wanted an out to all this pent-up energy.

Sherlock surprised him by smoothing his hand over his sweaty chin and cheek. John all but melted at Sherlock's aggressive look.

‘I don't think so. You're not to touch yourself. Doctor's orders.’

John couldn't help himself keening.

‘Please! Please, Sherlock, I'm begging you!’

Sherlock was still looming over him, but he made no attempt to touch John's weeping cock. It was obvious that he had won from the way John’s arms flexed and then relaxed by his sides, staying completely still despite what his mouth was saying.

‘Do you know what I was thinking about while I was trying to get the catheters inside?’ Sherlock asked leaning down to whisper into John’s ear. John could have sworn that he felt the warmth and humidity of Sherlock’s breath. ‘That with a minimal amount of stretching I could just shove my fist up your ass. I bet you would have liked that.’

John groaned and started to push himself off up the table to try and broaden the point of contact between their bodies, but Sherlock was having none of it, and pushed him back.

‘If you do not touch me right this moment…’

Sherlock grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back gently but firmly. He licked a wicked stripe up John's ear shell.

‘Then what?’

John sighed, trying to think of something desperately, but came up blank. At his silence, Sherlock laughed in that rich, velvety voice of his, which made John shiver.

‘You really are a stubborn man. I love challenges.’ With that, Sherlock disappeared. John almost called after him, but he was back in a second, with a familiar steel rod in his hand.

‘I believe you know what this is for.’ Sherlock said smoothly as he inserted the rod into John's slippery channel. The thing slipped right up to his prostrate and Sherlock started to vibrate it with his hand.

‘Fuck!’ John shouted and grabbed Sherlock's torso, pulling him down onto him, probably sullying his white coat in the process. His cock was rubbing against the slightly rough material; it was perfect, it was heaven, just what he needed. He was going to come any minute…and then Sherlock took the rod out.

‘No!’ John practically wailed, his hips lifting up helplessly on instinct, trying to seek out the intrusion. Sherlock stroked his face gently and shushed him with firm kisses. Damn, the man was a talented kisser. John felt dizzy from the combined effects of the kiss and the withheld orgasm. Suddenly, he felt Sherlock's fingers breaching him.

‘I was not going to let you come from anything other than me. If you were mine, I would let you play, but only I would be allowed to make you come. Would you like that, John?’

 Sherlock's long fingers were suddenly pressing down on John's prostrate and John shouted as he came untouched. It was almost painful due to his cock being neglected for so long, but Sherlock made up for it with his intensity as he mercilessly ploughed John's arse with three long fingers. He then pulled out carefully. John expected some pain, but could feel none. He was wide open and dripping, but aside from the natural soreness and the feeling of being well-used, there was no discomfort.

As the blond man struggled to gather some oxygen into his lungs, he held Sherlock firmer. It felt amazing to snuggle into the wide chest and breathe in his aftershave which smelled spicy and distinct and matched the owner of the scent perfectly. Pale blue eyes looked back at him, blown with lust.

John noticed that there was something hard digging into his side where Sherlock's crotch touched him. Sherlock sighed and spoke in a gravelly voice.

‘If you would like…’

John did not answer, just pushed his hand down Sherlock's elastic scrubs (thank God for easy access) and pulled the impressive prick out. It wasn't too thick, but it was long and perfectly in proportion with Sherlock's lanky body. He looked up through his damp bangs at Sherlock as he took his cock into his mouth without hesitation. It tasted sharp and John wondered how long Sherlock had been aroused. The man writhed after a couple of bobs of John's head. He must have seen the satisfied expression on John's face, because the next minute a strong hand was grabbing him by his hair.

‘You will do this on my terms, or not at all. Am I making myself clear?’

John moaned and nodded, enjoying the strain of the cock against the back of his throat. The position was awkward and he couldn't get it any deeper.

As if Sherlock was a mind reader, he made John move up, still lying on his back, until his head was hanging off the table.

‘What…?'‘John was confused, but then Sherlock was pushing his prick back into his mouth and in a minute he understood. Oh, God. Sherlock was able to push past John's gag reflex with ease this way. He was already deep-throating him and John barely had to strain as Sherlock fucked him reverently.

‘Jesus, so good…so tight…John!’

 Sherlock pushed in impossibly deep until John felt like he was going to black out from the lack of oxygen but it was exquisite, the way the cock filled his throat so perfectly. He felt Sherlock's seed coat his throat as the taller man collapsed over him, mindful not to strain John's neck any further.

John took deep, shuddering breaths around Sherlock's cock as he slowly licked him through the aftershocks. Sherlock pulled off, dragged John up into a sitting position and snogged him mercilessly.

‘See you after work’ Sherlock said curtly as he broke away. John felt a pang of disappointment, but then saw Sherlock's business card on the exam table. Or…not a business card, apparently, because his home address was on it.

John sat around just thinking about Sherlock in a haze until Molly found him. Her face was decidedly red at seeing him naked, but John didn't care.

He couldn't wait to go to Baker Street.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed the ride! :) I couldn't get the thought of a sexy Dr Sherlock out of my head - this story is the result. (Oh and I love-love-love object insertion!)


End file.
